


Winter's Thaw

by NohrianScum (OrderOfRevan)



Series: Winter Verse [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: AU, Character Study, Falling In Love, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:33:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/NohrianScum
Summary: Ryoma finds Xander in the lake he used to play by in childhood.Really, he only wanted to talk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has nothing to do with swimming. 
> 
> I'm a serious fic writer, I swear.

The waves crashed against the shore of the lake, the noise a calming one to Ryoma, who’d often stolen away to this place as a boy when the sounds of Shirasagi had grown too loud for his mind. It reminded him of childhood, of lazy days spent spear fishing rather than studying or training, of the sound of frogs and the hazy, humid, warmth of summer. 

It looked almost exactly like he remembered it, save that Prince Xander of Nohr stood in the shallows, water to his ankles, staring into the distance. He looked thoughtful, vulnerable without his armor, though he was still a massive man, tall with broad shoulders and a sharp jaw… Very Nohrian. As Nohrian as the mountainous West, perpetually covered in snow, though Ryoma had only ever been past the Spine a few times in his life. 

“You know, if you go farther out, you can move with the water,” he said, making his presence known, sandals shifting the rocks beneath his feet and making them crunch. 

“You can feel the element of water itself and understand why the Dragons chose to touch this land with their divine claws,” he mimicked the movement of waves with a hand, Xander whipping his head around to look into Ryoma’s face as he meandered down the path. “Or just swim. It’s good for you.” 

The man made a face and then sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, rays of golden sunlight caught in his flaxen hair. “I don’t swim,” he said after a quiet moment, his expression so sour that it reminded Ryoma of vinegar, “but it is lovely out here. Hoshido is a beautiful place.” 

“Say that with that expression on your face, and I might take it as an insult,” he said as he tossed his sandals to the side, carefully girding his kimono before he waded out into the water, “but you’re right. Hoshido is full of natural wonders.” 

They stood side by side for a moment, awash in the sounds of nature. Birds sang in the trees, and the waves broke gently against the shore, wind rustling the leaves in the branches of trees, a dragonfly lazily darting across the lake’s surface. Ryoma just waited, waited for Xander’s voice to breath life into his statuesque features and break the silence, for the mountain to move and crumble and the snow and ice to thaw. 

“Were you happy?” Xander asked, suddenly, his words causing Ryoma’s brow to crease in confusion. “Growing up, here, with your family and the entire world at your fingertips? Were you happy?” 

There was an intensity in the line of Xander’s features, the words the rumble of a distant avalanche beyond those violet eyes. Sighing, Ryoma turned his gaze back towards the water, crossing his arms over his chest as the wind teased a strand of hair from its restraints. 

“I was happy,” he confessed. “I hunted and fished here, in these lands, spent hours playing the role of proud big brother and eldest son and showing my siblings the world one at a time. I trained with my father, learned how to interact with the servants, and reveled in my boyhood.” A smile touched his lips, slipping past the restraints of his professional composure to warm his eyes, “they were innocent times, before the war brought everything to a screeching halt and made me the man of my family before I’d even come of age.”

Another moment passed between them before Xander spoke, his words tumbling out of his mouth and tripping over one another, “then you’re fortunate. I can’t remember a time before things turned cold very clearly.” 

Cold.

Like Nohr. 

Like the mountains.

Like the heart of a father consumed by hatred until it ate away every fiery bit of love and passion, sacrificing it in the name of empty vengeance. Even that lust had faded away, replaced by nothing but a desire for more destruction, to hurt everyone the way the world had hurt him, a stark reminder that even the might could fall. 

A cold that had eaten everything and left Xander a man of eternal winter, longing to thaw. 

“Has it changed?” Ryoma asked, tilting his head upwards to meet Xander’s eyes. “Are you happy now, or still cold?”

Xander didn’t say anything, his stance uncomfortable, arms crossed firmly over his chest as he glared at the surface of the lake. It was all Ryoma could do not to take him and shake his shoulder until he gave an answer, but it wasn’t as though they’d really known one another that long, and really Xander was only here at the behest of their shared sister. 

Sighing, he shifted, untying his obi and tossing his clothing back onto the shore before wading farther into the water. He closed his eyes, feeling a bit like a boy again… Going and doing foolish things out in the wilderness with nary a care, shedding the mantle of his own position to allow himself moments of levity and freedom. 

Diving into the water, he could hear Xander sputter as the spray hit him. When he surfaced, running his hands over his dripping head, he laughed at the Nohrian Prince, who looked as indigant as a wet kitten, his fine white shirt soaked clean through. 

“Life, Xander, is like the changing of the seasons,” he began, waving his hand. “Winter is a necessary part of that, the end of the cycle, but from the thaw new life springs anew, bringing with it hope. Even the trees survive the freeze, their leaves returning, their vibrancy restored. The old must give way, but we must let it die and learn to trust that the new season will bring us bounty.” 

“Could you just let go?” Xander asked him, stripping his shirt from his shoulders and tossing it easily over a tree branch.

Ryoma watched as his eyes closed and he leaned his head back, eyes tracing the shapes of Xander’s battle scars… Not surprising for a Knight of Nohr, though knowing what he did about King Garon, Ryoma wondered if all of those scars were from combat. Slowly, Xander turned his head around, looking down into Ryoma’s eyes from where he stood on the shore, his expression oddly soft in spite of the deep furrow between his brows. 

“The fading day takes with it all my dreams,” the man muttered, his lips barely parting, “at night I hear the echo of my cries. And do I seek the place where my heart lies? Or let the sorrow choke away my screams? The push and pull, the flow of time’s deep streams makes my regrets necessary and wise. So on my lips youthful protests die, leave in their wake a man broken by their schemes. “

He paused, something soft flickering across his mournful features as his eyes gazed out across the lake, unfocused. “But in my breast beats hope for life anew. So turn my eyes toward the dawn soft sun, release my pain, release an anguished cry. How do I trust the words you speak are true, that wars can cease and battles can be won? Yet heart yearns bright and lips release a sigh.” 

The Nohrian Prince’s voice fell silent, the last syllable carried by the waves and the wind, seeming to fill the world around them. For a moment, Ryoma simply let it sink into his skin, felt the weight of the words that Xander spoke and the conviction with which he spoke them… Some old poem or song, perhaps, the whispers of a legacy that he bore all too well. 

But what a sad legacy it was. 

“You don’t have to wear the mantle all the time,” he said, making his way slowly back towards the rocky shore. “I’m not always High Prince Ryoma. Sometimes, I shed that to wear different robes, to flash different colors.” 

“I am Prince in all things,” Xander protested, his held high with the pride of his draconic ancestors flashing in his stormy gaze, “and one day I will be king, if my father can be defeated.” 

“When your father is defeated, you will be king, and so will I,” Ryoma said, walking forward, placing his hands on Xander’s shoulders and feeling the man tense beneath him, a predator cornered by his equal. “That’s only a small part of who we are. I’ve seen the regard you hold your family in, how fiercely you protect your friends, the way you study and train fastidiously to improve yourself,” he paused and then chuckled. “ I’ve even heard you laugh at your sibling’s expense.”

“You speak so highly of me,” Xander said, his voice biting, though Ryoma felt him relax. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be a good man,” Ryoma admitted, stepping closer still, close enough to feel Xander’s body heat, close enough that the height difference between them was finally obvious. “I’m pleased to be proven wrong.” 

The air around them shifted at those words, one of Xander’s hands falling heavily onto his shoulder, the touch sending a sensation down his spine that he wasn’t expecting. It settled in his stomach and the air suddenly felt too cold, making Ryoma hyper-aware of the way the nightly mists were beginning to roll in from the west. 

“I am, as well,” Xander said, Ryoma suddenly incredibly aware of every bit of their bodies, of the way the fingers of Xander’s hand tightened on his shoulder momentarily, reassuring and baffling all at once. “You’re nothing like I expected. I... “ 

Xander swallowed, Ryoma’s eyes intent on his face as the hand on his shoulder slowly slid downward, calloused palm resting against his upper arm. The finger on Xander’s other hand flex before he reached out, though he quickly dropped his arm again, seeming uncertain. 

Ryoma stepped closer. 

“I’m what?” he asked, arching his eyebrows as he grinned, “more attractive than you?” 

The words had barely left his lips when he found his next breath swallowed by a crushing kiss, Xander’s other hand tangling into the locks of his hair as he pressed Ryoma against his chest. Too shocked to question what was happening, the fire in his blood lit by something he couldn’t quite understand, he wrapped his arms around Xander’s neck, forcing him to bend into the kiss. 

It didn’t stop. 

When Xander broke the kiss, Ryoma pulled him back into as he walked Xander back towards the tree until the Nohrian was pressed against it. He wanted to touch Xander, desperately, to make his damn golden hair disheveled, to ease that furrow between his brow, to erase the cold and thaw the winter freeze, and he didn’t understand why he wanted any of it.

Only that it was so overwhelming that he didn’t even mind his breath being stolen by Xander’s lips, that it didn’t feel odd to him to press his body against a man’s and let desire race through every part of him. 

Finally, he managed to break away, laying his head against Xander’s chest, listening to his heart thunder like the strike of hoofbeats against the dirt. Slowly, he lowered his hands, resting one idly against the Nohrian’s hip, content to feel the way the other man’s fingers gently brushed through his hair in slow, soothing, strokes. 

“I’m going to have bark stuck to my back, you know,” Xander huffered quietly after a moment. “This is your fault and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.” 

“You didn’t seem to be complaining when you were trying to eat my tongue,” Ryoma said with a chuckle, catching his breath and letting the heat inside of him subside, focusing more on the feeling of being held, on the way Xander’s skin looked snow white in comparison to his own. 

“Are you…” he began, his voice rumbling against Ryoma’s ear, though he quickly trailed off. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Not even remotely.”

“Kissing?” he asked, earning his hip a harsh squeeze, though not enough to be bruising. 

“No. With a man,” Xander said firmly, glowering down at him.

“No,” Ryoma confessed, “you’re the first. Does it…”

“Bother me? No.” Though his words were stiff, his voice level, Xander’s touch was tender as he tucked a strand of hair behind Ryoma’s ear, then bent forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We need to discuss this, but not now. I have too many thoughts swimming in my head. I have to figure out if this can …”

Ryoma was already pulling back, squeezing Xander’s arm affectionately as they parted, his own mind foggy with thoughts. The mist had long ago started to rise around them and night was beginning to come to the land of Hoshido, which mean that Saizo and Laslow would be looking for them. 

“Don’t make yourself sick by worrying, Xander,” Ryoma said, reluctantly backing completely away, searching the shore for his clothing. “I would hate to lose you before I can thaw your icy heart.” 

Feeling Xander’s eyes upon him, he lifted his head up, freezing when he found himself caught in that gaze. His mouth fell open but no words came out before Xander was walking towards him, placing his hand on Ryoma’s chest and then…

Pushing him into the water. 

Ryoma let out a shout, cursing as he stared up into the Nohrian prince’s face, realizing that he was smiling as he stared down at Ryoma. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help but that that was a good look on Xander, couldn’t help but finally understand what Corrin meant when she talked about seeing the man behind the princely veneer. 

“That,” Xander said, “is for soaking my shirt, Ryoma.” 

Slowly, he backed away, his smile softening for just an instant as he bowed and then turned away without another word, leaving Ryoma sitting in the shallows of the rocky lake bed, staring at him as he walked away. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. 
> 
> This has a second chapter.

Ryoma honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there, the man shouldering past him into the room before he could even ask what was wrong. 

And there  _ was  _ something wrong.

It was obvious, written in the lines of his brow. The man’s expressions were strangely subtle for someone so emotive, someone filled with such clear and unbridled passion, for whom every sigh, every shift, every turn of his head was significant. Ryoma had learned to read them after spending mornings sparring with him, after fighting side by side with him, engaging in conversation with him.

After they had kissed. 

Pushing the thought from his mind for the moment, he closed the door quietly behind him and turned, looking up into Xander’s stormy face. Blizzard like, he thought, taking a step forward as he placed a hand on the other man’s upper arm, feeling him tense underneath Ryoma’s touch. It was miserable to see him like this when he wasn’t an innately cold person, when he could be as soft as a spring breeze and as brilliant as the summer sun, if he wanted.

“Something has happened,” Ryoma said, not asking what, his fingers winding into the fabric of Xander’s sleeve. 

Bowing his head, Ryoma closed his eyes, wondering if he only imagined that Xander was trembling, unable to discern an answer the moment the other man pulled away from him. Lifting his gaze, he watched on as Xander seemed to shrink in on himself for a fraction of a second, the insecurity and anger vanishing the moment he met Ryoma’s eyes. 

“I--” he began, though Ryoma didn’t let him finish the sentence, sensing an excuse on the tip of his tongue. 

“Sit,” he ordered instead, stepping forward and placing both of his hands on Xander’s shoulders, walking him back towards the tatami only to pause a moment later.“No. First take your boots off, then sit. I’ll send for tea.” 

Xander didn’t argue with him, didn’t question his reasoning, simply leaned forward to unfasten the heavy buckles keeping his riding boots secure. It was good that he was such a polite man or he might have already driven half the Hoshidan court mad with his presence, but he always made an effort to respect their traditions and that had gone a long way to endear him to Mother and her cabinet. 

Including Ryoma. 

As he discreetly asked Kagero to find someone to fetch them tea and dismissed Saizo, Ryoma couldn’t help but be amazed how much his estimation of the former Crown Prince of Nohr had changed since he had shown up in Hoshido, bloodied and bruised, with a band of refugees nipping at his heels. Never before had such a person come to their doorstep, a man asking for an alliance as if he still had power to negotiate with, a man who had deftly proved himself to be regal and just in defiance of every Hoshdian rumor about his cruelty and barbarism. 

And now he sat, cross legged, before Ryoma’s table, looking so distant that he seemed to be from another world entirely. 

“So what caused you to come crashing in here like a man possessed at this hour?” Ryoma asked, sitting adjacent to Xander rather than across from him. “It’s not usually like you to make rash or impulsive decisions.” 

Xander didn’t immediately respond, but he did look up towards Ryoma, something flashing across his features in an instant. Before he could really process what was happening, the man had grabbed Ryoma’s wrist to pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hair as their lips crashed together. 

There was a desperation in the way Xander moved his mouth, biting down insistently on Ryoma’s bottom lip and sucking as the hand not tangled in Ryoma’s hair found his hip, grasping it firmly. In spite of himself, even knowing that tea was on its way, he found himself leaning into Xander’s touches, reaching up to cup the man’s face only to push him away when his fingers felt dampness on his cheeks. 

“Xander--” he began, quieted by another kiss as the other attempted to draw him closer still, arousal churning in Ryoma’s gut when Xander’s hand slipped lower, grasping his thigh. 

It was all he could do to stop himself from groaning as he broke the kiss and placed his hands firmly on Xander’s chest. This… It was dizzying. In spite of everything Xander had said at the lake that day about discussing what had happened between them later no discussion had ever come, and now here he was, distraught and chasing some form of release that he wasn’t even sure either of them should pursue. 

He opened his mouth to chastise but when he saw the way Xander looked into his eyes, felt the way his hand trembled on Ryoma’s thigh, any annoyance died on his lips. Instead he felt only concern, easing his hands over Xander’s face, running his thumbs over his cheekbones as he watched those lips part and a breath escaped between his lips. 

“What happened?” He asked again, his voice less demanding, heart aching in ways he wasn’t wholly prepared for. 

“Cheve--” Xander managed, images of Scarlet flashing through Ryoma’s mind, of the strong-willed rebels who had sheltered Xander, had sent him here to Hoshido. “He’s razed it. He’s burned it to the ground.”

“Survivors?” Ryoma asked, trying to keep his voice level, grip on Xander’s face tightening. 

Xander didn’t need to respond, not when his lips trembled and his eyes blazed, when his skin was ashen pale. In his own chest Ryoma felt his heart shudder and then flare with fury, opening his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open, quickly pushing away from Xander, fists balled in his lap. 

Everything was quiet as the servant walked inside, bowing to them both in typical fashion before moving to serve them. The entire interaction was stilted, awkward, silent, and Ryoma was grateful when it was over and he and Xander were once more left in relative peace, if it could truly be called that. Neither of them said anything for a long time, Ryoma not even daring to take a drink of his tea lest the noise shatter Xander’s apparently tenuous composure. 

“It’s not your fault,” Ryoma said, then hesitantly reached out, brushing his fingers across the back of Xander’s knuckles. 

“I should have been there,” he replied, his voice filled with deep anguish even though he stared at the table, not responding to Ryoma’s touch. 

He released a breath, trying again. This time, he moved closer to Xander, reaching out to touch his face, watching emotion twitch across the man’s impassive features as the anguish in his eyes forced itself beyond his trembling lips. Ryoma could tell that Xander was trying to keep himself composed, to hold himself back, but he was losing the battle as surely as he’d lost his world and his title to his monster of a father. 

“There was nothing you could have done,” Ryoma said, keeping his voice soft as he dragged his fingers up through Xander’s hair, gently repeating the motion when Xander didn’t push him away.

“I have a duty,” he protested, leaning into Ryoma’s touch. “They’re my people and I failed them. Because I was unable to stop my father --” 

“You’re only a man,” the words came out firm as he interrupted Xander, whose eyes locked with his in an expression of nothing less than perfect shock. “If you were there, Xander, you would have died along with the other rebels, and you are far more important to Nohr’s future than you realize.” 

Xander’s eyes widened, lips parting as if to protest, something about his baffled expression somehow both endearing and frustrating to no end. He made an angry noise in his throat, pulling Xander in for another kiss, the only thing he could think to do to shut him up. 

“You’re important to your siblings,” he said against Xander’s lips, feeling the other man’s fingers wind into the fabric of his kimono. 

“Ryoma…” Xander breathed, and Ryoma shifted, brushing their lips together again as he moved forward, straddling the other man’s thighs. 

“You’re important to Corrin,” Ryoma reminded him as Xander’s hands moved to hold his hips, their foreheads touching. 

He pulled himself closer so that they were chest to chest, wrapping his arms around Xander’s neck, and though he felt ridiculous, had never done anything like this with a man before, it also somehow felt… right. Xander was warm and broad, and his hands trembled where he held Ryoma in place with such a gentle regard that it might seem absurd if it hadn’t been so touching… An indicator of how gentle the man beneath the ice really was capable of being. 

Unable to help himself, he kissed Xander again, the fingers of his left hand winding through the man’s hair. The hold on his hips tightened, though the other hand fell away to brace against the ground as Xander leaned back, Ryoma leaning with him. 

Breaking away, Ryoma pressed soft, fleeting kisses to his forehead and cheeks, shivering lightly as Xander’s fingers stroked his hip. Swallowing, he closed his eyes, voice coming out as a whisper, though he hadn’t intended it to. “You’re important to me… So don’t be… Don’t be a fool.” 

Xander didn’t say anything, instead he kissed Ryoma again, groaning openly into his mouth the moment the kiss deepened. He wasn’t really sure who had started it, but he could feel arousal coiling inside of his gut again, placing one hand against Xander’s chest and pushing, prompting a grunt as the other man lowered them both slowly towards the floor. 

“Ryoma,” Xander groaned, fingers lacing into Ryoma’s hair. “I … I just want…” 

“Want what?” Ryoma asked, stroking Xander’s cheek as he looked down into his face, feeling stupidly giddy at being so close, at the way their limbs fit together, at being able to feel Xander’s body heat. 

“Hold me,” the other man breathed, grasping Ryoma with aching desperation, shaking fingers stroking through Ryoma’s hair. 

Ryoma’s only response was to kiss Xander again.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryoma stirred, exhaling in surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone, eyes slowly opening, though the tension in his body left the moment he looked into Xander’s face. The other man sat very still, clearly awake, his ears turning slightly red the moment Ryoma greeted him by brushing a piece of unruly blonde hair from his eyes. 

“Good morning,” he muttered, smiling when Xander captured his hand and placed a chaste kiss against his palm. “Well, aren’t you affectionate?” 

“I could stop, if it bothers you,” Xander muttered against his skin, his breath ghosting between Ryoma’s fingers. 

“If it bothered me, I would have kicked you off the futon,” he said with a warm chuckle, not really sure what he was allowed to do with his hands, where he should put them, settling for pressing his palm against Xander’s neck when the man finally returned its use to him. 

In spite of everything that had happened the night before, Xander laughed, the sound making Ryoma’s heart clench in ways he hadn’t full anticipated. Swallowing, he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when the finger’s of Xander’s left hand reached out to gently touch Ryoma’s waist. 

“You should laugh more often,” Ryoma muttered as he pushed himself closer to Xander, their legs entwining. “Still doesn’t get rid of the furrow in your brow, though.” 

The other man shook his head and rolled his eyes, though his smile didn’t falter. He quickly buried his head in Ryoma’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around Ryoma’s waist and simply breathing against his neck. Slowly, their breathing synchronized, though the ache in Ryoma’s chest never really left as they embraced, a part of him feeling like this couldn’t possibly be happening. 

“Thank you,” Xander said, his lips tickling the skin of Ryoma’s neck. “I… You didn’t need to… You showed me a kindness I’m not wholly convinced I deserve.” 

The words were painful to hear. 

The idea that this man didn’t think he deserved any sort of kindness.

“I might have agreed with you, once,” Ryoma said as he cupped the back of Xander’s head, “but you’ve earned my trust and respect. You’ve earned my…” he shook his head from side to side, not really certain what this was or how to explain it; surely it was too soon to give it a label of any sort. “Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”

“I’ve done things that a man like you could never imagine doing,” Xander replied, though his lips pressed against the skin of Ryoma’s neck gently. “But I appreciate this. I appreciate you.” 

He drew back, though Ryoma quickly pulled him back in, this time for a kiss. Slowly, Xander’s fingers wound into Ryoma’s hair, pressing their foreheads together when he broke away, so close that Ryoma could feel his warm breath ghosting across his own cheeks. 

“We need to talk about this,” Ryoma said, watching Xander’s face carefully, soothing his thumb over the eternal divot between the man’s eyebrows. “I have no idea where we stand.”

Xander didn’t respond immediately, so still that Ryoma briefly wondered if he had fallen back to sleep, but this his eyes opened and he nodded before slowly pulling away. He disengaged with Xander, taking in the sight of his mussed hair, of his shirt, the first several buttons open to reveal the pale skin of his chest, the fine white fabric rumpled, vest and that stupid cloth necktie nowhere to be seen. Shifting, he sat up, juban falling off his shoulder, though he quickly straightened the fabric, his eyes not leaving Xander for a second. 

“You’re right,” the man admitted, “I just have no idea where we should start. Not even remotely. I’ve never…” Ryoma watched as Xander reached up a hand and carded it through that soft, blonde hair of his. “I’ve never had interest in a man before. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” 

“Well, we’re on equal footing then,” Ryoma replied, slowly rising, bare feet hitting the tatami. “Do you mind if I have breakfast brought here? I don’t want to discuss a life-altering relationship on an empty stomach.” 

That earned him a snort, though Xander’s expression was fond, his oddly colored eyes gazing up at Ryoma and making the harsh lines of his face turn gentle, somehow. 

“Be my guest,” he said with a nod, stretching out his long limbs, Ryoma taking no small pleasure in imagining the way the muscles of his arms and back looked extended just so. “I have nowhere to be, and I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts.”

The words reminded him of Cheve, and he vowed to have Saizo look into it as soon as possible, to see if there were any survivors at all or anything that could be done for Nohr. It was growing more clear to Ryoma every day that things were getting worse and worse there and that something had to be done to stop the Mad King Garon from trampling the entire world beneath the heel of his riding boots.

It was even more clear to Ryoma that Xander, saved by the rebellion, might very well be the key to doing something about it… Though he still wasn’t sure how Xander felt about that, or even how he felt about his own father, to be honest. 

The father that had exiled him.

The father that had nearly had him executed for treason, though Ryoma had never been told what ‘treasonous’ act Xander had committed against the Crown. 

Notwithstanding what Garon had taken from him -- a father, a sibling -- there had to be so much more that he had stolen from his own children. The thought of that monster hurting another person Ryoma cared about set his stomach rolling, even as he called for food to be brought to the room, only reaching up to tug at the long strands of his hair in frustration once the door had closed behind the serving woman. 

How many more lives would that Nohrian bastard destroy? 

“You seem agitated,” came Xander’s voice from behind him, Ryoma spinning around to find himself nearly touching the other man. “Is there something on your mind?” 

Ryoma reached out, taking Xander’s hand and brushing his thumb softly over the back of his knuckles. Swallowing, deciding that he would just act on instinct as he would if Xander were a woman, he stepped closer and reached up with his other hand to skim his fingers adoringly over Xander’s cheek. He watched as the former Crown Prince of Nohr leaned into his touch, feeling a surge of affection bubbling warmly within his gut. 

“Nothing that talking to you can’t fix,” he said with a small laugh and what he hoped was a warm smile. “There’s nothing to be done about it right now, anyway.”

Xander’s ears were turning red as he flushed, and Ryoma could hear his breath hitch as he stepped closer, leaning his head against Xander’s chest and wrapping the other man tightly in his arms. He could hear the other man’s stuttering heartbeat, realizing with a bit of a shock that Xander was clearly nervous even though his face remained outwardly impassive. Glancing up, he noted how far the blush had travelled, Xander’s entire upper face a shade of deep red as he stared down at Ryoma with an intense expression on his face that was just on the wrong side of readable. 

“Does this bother you?” Ryoma asked, rubbing circles on Xander’s back, trying to reassure him. 

“No,” came the reply. “Confuses me, perhaps, but I’m not… I’m not… Upset.”

He opened his mouth, seemed primed to say more, but his lips pressed together and his brows furrowed even more deeply as his arms reached out, returning Ryoma’s embrace with a delicate touch. 

“You’re confused?” Ryoma asked, content to simply stand that way until they were interrupted by the servants. “What about this confuses you? Is it that I’m... “

“It’s not because you’re a man,” Xander said so firmly that Ryoma had no reason to doubt him, “nor is it because I’m Nohrian. I’m…” a self-deprecating chuckle left the other man’s lips, prompting Ryoma to squeeze him in soft reassurance. “I’m … An utter wreck, Ryoma.”

“I don’t find that surprising,” Ryoma responded, pulling back slightly to look up into Xander’s face. “When have I ever given you the impression that I find your particular brand of crazy offputting in the slightest?” 

Xander pulled gently away from Ryoma when a knock at the door sounded. By the time the food had been spread out before them, Xander had managed to straighten his hair and tie his ridiculous neck tie, though he was still vestless. When Ryoma walked back to the table and sat adjacent from him again, Xander offered him a small smile, picking up the chopsticks with the relatively mechanical movements of a man who had only just learned to use them well. 

“Did Corrin teach you?” Ryoma found himself asking. 

“Jakob did,” Xander admitted with a smile, cracking an egg and mixing it into his rice. “Or rather, he instructed from the sidelines on the best methods of teaching someone a new task.” 

“It’s kind of you to learn,” he insisted, turning his attention to his own food. “We’ve hosted people who didn’t bother to try.” 

“The Nestrans,” Xander surmised, prompting a laugh and a do from Ryoma. 

“And yet every time we would visit them, they’d give us sidelong glances for eating their noodles as if it were yakisoba,” slowly, he shook his head, eyes flickering upwards to meet Xander’s gaze. “It’s easy.”

“The chopsticks?” Xander asked, brow furrowing even more deeply.

“No,” he shook his head. “Speaking to you.” 

For some reason, that earned him a laugh, one that shook Xander’s shoulders and made his hair catch the light in interesting ways. “I think… I think that’s possible the first time I’ve ever been told I’m easy to speak to. People…” he waved his hand, his gaze falling to the table. “My reputation tends to proceed me.” 

“I’ll admit I’ve heard the stories,” Ryoma said with a shrug. “That you’re cold and uncompromising, but… I don’t think that’s true. Not any longer.” His eyes scanned Xander’s face, watching as the other man’s gaze fell to the grain of the table, glaring at it as if he could discern meaning from the patterns themselves. “You’re reserved, perhaps, and you don’t really seem to express your feelings like other people do, but you’re a kind man, a deep thinking man, and you always have interesting things to say. I… appreciate your company.” 

Xander flushed at that, Ryoma could see it, but he still didn’t raise his eyes. Instead, he set his bowl down on the table and rubbed the back of his neck, a sigh pushing its way past his slightly parted lips, concern reflected in the eyes underneath his perpetually furrowed brow. “I don’t deserve your praise, Ryoma. I failed my people. I failed my siblings. I failed my father. I have… I have done nothing of value.” 

Ryoma shook his head and shifted, moving to sit next to Xander. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing gently, though he didn’t look into Xander’s face. “Is that you talking, Xander? Or is it your father?” 

“This isn’t supposed to be about my father,” came the cold response, and Ryoma sighed in resignation, leaning into Xander’s shoulder instead, offering physical reassurance. 

“Then just accept how I feel, for the time being. For however long it takes, I will wait,” Ryoma said. “I know that this will be complicated, but I don’t mind. Not if…” He closed his eyes and lowered his voice, speaking so that only Xander could possibly hear his words. “Not if I can continue to see you laugh and smile. You’re far more handsome when you’re not burdening yourself with things that aren’t yours to carry.” 

He heard Xander laugh breathily, felt a hand fall on the side of his head. “So you intend not to define this…?”

“I don’t think it needs a definition,” Ryoma replied, reaching for Xander’s other hand and winding their fingers together in the Nohrian’s lap. “Not for now. Just know that I’m here for you, if you need me.” 

He chanced a glance up, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments, something Ryoma could only call shy brewing in the depths of those dark eyes. But there, even deeper, glimmering behind the uncertain smile and the furrowed brow, there brewed hope.

Something Ryoma could only hope would remain in the months and years to come. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the rating change, folks. :)

Ryoma woke up in the middle of the night, running his hand through his hair, restlessness settling somewhere in the pit of his stomach. It was hot, humidity causing strands of hair to cling to his neck, blanket trapped around his legs. With a growl, he started to kick it off, his body going rigid when he heard a twig snap on the walkway outside of his room.

Standing, tightening his juban around him, he grabbed Raijinto and walked towards the door, sliding it and stepping out into the open only to find himself colliding chest to chest with another person. Strong hands,  _ familiar _ hands, reached out and grabbed his shoulders, steadying them both, the sound of fabric moving and shoes against paving stones joining the symphony of nightly crickets in the mist. 

“Ryoma,” said a deep voice, scratchy with sleep, barely a whisper in the fog. “I’m sorry. Did I… Did I wake you?” 

His grip on Raijinto relaxed and he shook his head, running a hand up through his hair as he looked up into Xander’s familiar face. The man had a clear case of bedhead, his brow furrowed even more deeply in concern, shirt rumpled as if he’d just put it on after picking it up off the floor. 

It was an adorable image. 

“No,” he said. “I thought you were an intruder, but it was the heat that woke me.”

“Ah,” Xander replied softly. “I… I admit, I also found myself unable to sleep for similar reasons. Are you… Would you be opposed to company?”

Ryoma only smiled and then waved his hand, motioning for Xander to follow. A moment later, he gratefully shut the door behind them both, looking into Xander’s face from over his shoulder as he lit a candle, watching Xander stare at the flame, which glinted orange in his golden hair. 

“In Nohr, we use magic to light our rooms,” Xander said. “It’s cheaper than wax, especially as stone is the one thing we do have quite a bit of. Do you use the fire because it burns away at the mists and makes it easier to navigate during what passes for night here?” 

“Yes, actually,” Ryoma said, impressed at the observation, setting the long match back down as he turned to face Xander, leaning against the table, the edge digging into his palms. “Xander? Come here?”

Xander walked over to Ryoma slowly, bracing his hands on the table at either side of him as Ryoma slowly trailed his hands up Xander’s chest, resting them on his shoulders. “It wasn’t the heat that woke you, was it?” He asked, voice barely more than a whisper, the question little more than a vague stab in the dark… Though he would guess he’d been correct by the way Xander’s eyes widened at the words. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nightmares,” Xander managed, though he didn’t elaborate.

Ryoma didn’t ask him to. 

Instead, he slid his hands up Xander’s neck, cupped his face, and brought him down into a kiss. 

Xander didn’t hesitate, taking another half step forward and pressing his body to Ryoma’s, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. He could hear Xander’s blunt fingernails scratch against the wood and chuckled softly, lacing his fingers into the other man’s soft hair, losing himself to the rhythm and pleasure, the feeling of having another person so close to him. 

For Ryoma, it had been a long time. 

He didn’t take many lovers, but by the way Xander placed a hand firmly on the small of his back, the way he nipped and teased, leading Ryoma closer and closer to the edge of the table with small quarter steps back? Ryoma would be willing to be that Xander had taken many, many lovers, and that he had taken some pride in being able to please them all. 

Xander’s lips left his, hot mouth wet and hungry against the skin of his neck, rough hand cupping Ryoma’s cheek, thumb easing over his skin. He tilted his head, dropping his hands and trying to find purchase elsewhere until he wrapped them around Xander, his own loud groan when Xander nibbled his earlobe and tugged playfully with his teeth startling him. 

“Ah,” Xander said, his breath tickling Ryoma’s skin. “You like that.”

Ryoma nodded, Xander’s lips curving against his neck, tongue laving his skin briefly. “Did you invite me inside for this?” Xander asked, pushing playfully at the fabric hanging from Ryoma’s shoulders, “or did you… Did you really intend to just talk?”

“Talk,” he managed, swallowing hard as Xander’s nose skimmed down his neck, the crown of his head of luxurious golden curls staring Ryoma right in the face. Slowly, he reached back up, running his fingers through it, unable to stop himself from thinking how beautiful it was… And how ironic that a man from a land so dark should have hair like the sun. “But talk is… Is not where I want this to go.”

Xander snorted, a soft chuckle following the noise, his hands once again both braced on the table. “Unless it’s pillow talk?” 

The words sent shivers up Ryoma’s spine, prompting him to greedily tug Xander up by the hair and kiss him again. He wasn’t so slow this time, not quite so hesitant, only briefly grunting in surprise when Xander yanked him from the table and began to walk them backwards in the direction of the futon. Futily he tugged at the other man’s clothing, feeling a sense of triumph when his fingers finally found Xander’s buttons, clawing at them. 

What had started out slow filled Ryoma’s belly with a burning passion, stoked further when Xander sunk with him onto the futon, grasping Ryoma’s ass and squeezing. He arched, managing the first few buttons on Xander’s shirt before losing patience and simply tearing them away, the buttons popping and flying over the floor, rolling into all corners of the room. Leaning down, he kissed a path down Xander’s chest, rubbing a palm eagerly over the man’s stomach, marveling at the way each muscle felt moving against his skin. 

“You’re fortunate that’s a night shirt,” Xander muttered, pulling Ryoma closer to him until he straddled Xander’s waist, fair brow arching for a brief moment, though it did nothing to get rid of the crease between them. “You’re not wearing undergarments?”

“I sleep in the nude,” Ryoma replied with a husky chuckle, tugging idly at Xander’s waistband, “don’t you?” 

Xander didn’t answer, instead untying the hastily fastened juban and pushing it from Ryoma’s shoulders, his hands trailing heat up and down Ryoma’s thighs as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick his lips. The sensation forced a soft intake of breath, teasing just enough that he found feel himself getting harder, groaning loudly when Xander began to grind against him, growing rigid against Ryoma. It was all he could do to gyrate against Xander, pressing down into him and drawing a hiss from the Nohrian’s lips, making a show of it as he leaned forward and grinned at his lover, hair falling in a curtain around them both. 

“Ah,” he breathed, his chuckle strangled with pleasure, his cock begging to be touched, “I see you like the look of me.” 

“That’s… Not difficult,” Xander replied, then cursed loudly, grasping Ryoma’s hips tightly and stilling them as his head fell back, exposing his neck to Ryoma. 

Ryoma laughed, kissing Xander’s pale skin as he lifted his hips, trying to help his lover pull off his pants. It was difficult, and the only managed to get them to Xander’s knees before giving up, too distracted by newly exposed flesh, by the the fascinating sounds Xander made when Ryoma gently toyed with one of his nipples. 

“I …” Xander began cut off by a goran when Ryoma reached between them, teasing his fingers along Xander’s length. 

“Hush,” Ryoma muttered against his skin. “You think too much. Just … Feel  _ this _ .” He moved Xander’s hand, grabbing his wrist and guiding it between their bodies, bowing his head to rest on Xander’s broad shoulder,“feel  _ me. _ ” 

Xander’s hand brushed over Ryoma’s shaft, and Ryoma angled his hips, breathing heavily against Xander’s skin as he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel Xander underneath him, pressed against him, could feel Xander take them both in hand and then stroke, slowly but firmly, rolling his hips with purpose into his own touch. Ryoma could only choke, his mouth opening as he braced one hand on the futon, the other tangling back into Xander’s hair just to touch him as another rough hand settled on his ass. 

Ryoma didn’t hold back, trying to find the pace Xander was setting with his own hips, opening his mouth to suck and nip and Xander’s skin. Still so agonizingly slow, pressure building in his abdomen, his cock practically burning in Xander’s hand, against Xander, who was panting and groaning so loudly that Ryoma could somehow hear his voice even over the sound of his own heartbeat. 

It was beautiful. 

Xander was beautiful. 

“Faster,” he pleaded, bucking his hips. “Xander -- Xander--”

“Look at me,” came Xander’s voice, thick in his ear. “I need to see you… Need to see you when you cum.”

Those words sent thrills through his body, his throat tightening someone with deep emotion as he lifted his suddenly heavy head and pressed his forehead to his lover’s. “Faster,” he said again, voice strangled. “I need this. Need you.”

“Don’t close your eyes,” was Xander’s response, mouth falling open as his hand stroked faster, his thumb teasing the slit of Ryoma’s heavy cock. 

Ryoma choked, staring down into Xander’s face, somehow consumed by his expression. Mouth slack, panting, his eyes boring into Ryoma with an intense emotion far deeper than friendship, respect, or even physical attraction, something that made made Ryoma feel as glorious as the Dragons that had birthed their family lines. His fingers tangled into the sheets beside him, and he felt his hips stuttering, his control over himself faltering as he came closer and closer to the edge. 

And it occurred to him in that moment,  staring into Xander’s eyes, being gazed at as if he were a revelation, an answer to a question, that he had no idea how he’d ever thought Xander was cold. 

He cried out, arching up as he came, still keeping his eyes on Xander, who was muttering incoherent praise. He didn’t last but a moment longer, Ryoma’s name on his lips like it was a song, pulling Ryoma against his sweaty, sticky body as he moved his hand, letting it fall beside them. 

He felt boneless, like he was little more than a noodle, wanting to do nothing more than to stay with Xander, just like this. It was filthy, so filthy, he felt disgusting, but … 

But his heart ached, ached so perfectly. 

It was only because he told himself that he would be able to return that he got up and stumbled to the wash basin. He took the time to clean himself first, listening to the shuffling from the other room, before he decided that he’d done a good enough job,  sweat still cooling on his skin. 

When he came back with it, Xander had somehow managed to kick off his boots, though he seemed to have given up on his pants. He flushed slightly when he saw Ryoma, who laughed a bit at him as he sat back down running the washcloth first over Xander’s hand, and then his stomach, keeping his touch gentle. 

“You’re amazing,” he muttered softly, leaning forward to kiss Xander’s lips, gratified when his affection was returned. “It was worth days of foreplay for this, though… I think it can only get better, don’t you?” 

Xander laughed at that, sighing in relief when Ryoma moved to help him with his pants. 

“I’m not sure how,” his lover breathed, “but you manage to bring out the best in me in ways that no one else can… Ryoma.” 

Pushing the basin and the cloth to the side, Ryoma laid back down next to Xander, tracing idle shapes along his chest, their legs entwining again. He closed his eyes, just breathing, humming when he felt Xander’s fingers start to stroke his hair, the slight tugging at his scalp soothing him. For awhile, they just stayed like that, content, the night sounds outside slowly giving way to birdsong, heralding the burning away of the mists and the return of the bright, Hoshidan sun. 

There was no better feeling than this, than laying and awaiting the day with a lover, surely. 

Perhaps later he’d write a poem about it. 

“I think…” Ryoma said sleepily, kissing Xander’s shoulder, “that I may be falling in love with you.”

He had expected stiffness, reluctance to reply, but instead he received a soft snort, realizing that his lover had fallen asleep. With a fond smile on his face, realizing that he might as well do the same, he lifted himself up and pressed a single kiss to Xander’s sleep lips before curling up beside him. 

If this was love, then he would wait as long as Xander needed to hear the words in turn. 


End file.
